John 3:1-21 · Jesus Teaches Nicodemus
You Must Start Over!
John 3:1-21
Sermon
by Mike Ripski
Loading...

I. A personal confession

My first appointment was as the Associate Pastor of Grace UMC in the Graceland area of south Memphis. It was 1975. Racial transition had begun in that part of the city. Overnight young adult Sunday school classes moved east. Older adult classes moved to Mississippi. People of a different race and culture moved in.

Grace Church’s future depended on its reaching out to its new neighbors. The community had changed. Could the church change too?

Things have changed since Belle Meade UMC was birthed going on 60 years ago. The church’s future depends on reaching out to new neighbors, neighbors who are younger, whose culture is different, whose music is different. Can we do that? As your pastor can I help you do that? I sincerely want to, but to be honest, I don’t know. The older I get the more I know I don’t know.

And so, I can relate to Nicodemus. He sensed in Jesus something he knew he didn’t know.

II. A “Come to Jesus” meeting

Jesus has gone to Jerusalem and to the Temple for the Passover festival. While there he is enraged by those doing business on the premises. They were selling animals for sacrifice and exchanging unclean Roman money for clean. Jesus turns over their tables. He makes a whip and cleans house. “Stop making my Father’s house a marketplace!”

Those businesses were assumed to be essential for doing religion the way it’d always been done.

Unlike Matthew, Mark, and Luke, who place the Cleansing of the Temple at the end of their gospels, John places it at the beginning of his. It is his way of signaling what is ahead. Jesus is going to overturn the religious status quo. He’s going to challenge religion that has become presumptuous.

Jesus has gotten the attention of the religious establishment. Nicodemus is one of its leaders. He seeks Jesus out at night. In John’s gospel darkness describes how it is when we are deceiving ourselves but don’t know it. It’s being blind while thinking we see. It’s thinking we know, when we don’t.

The account of the cleansing of the Temple ends with these words of the narrator: “Jesus himself knew what was in everyone.” The knowledge that matters most is Jesus’ knowledge of us – who we are and who we can be by God’s grace. Jesus came not to condemn the world but to save it.

Nicodemus says, “We know you can’t do what you’re doing unless God is with you. But you’re not one of us. So just who are you and what are you up to?” Jesus’ response, in effect, says, “Nicodemus, what you know is getting in the way of your receiving what you need. I know your heart and mind. I know what you long for. It’s the Kingdom of God, that reality where everyone lives the life God created them for. And the truth is that you can’t enjoy that life, unless you are born anouthen.”

III. Literally three meanings

The Greek word has several meanings. It can be spatial: “from above.” It can be temporal: “anew, again.” It can be qualitative: “from top to bottom, thoroughly.” When Jesus dies on the cross, the veil separating the Holy of Holies from the sanctuary, is torn anouthen, from top to bottom.

Nicodemus focuses literally on born anew, born again. “How can one enter his mother’s womb when he is old?” Could it be that within this biological impossibility lies a longing for a fresh start? What would you do differently, if you had your life to live over again?

IV. Born by water and the Spirit

Jesus presses on: “Truly, I tell you, no one can enter the kingdom of God without being born of water and the Spirit.”

Jesus is likely referring to baptism, initiation into a new family, a new humanity. He’s referring to the womb of God, and the breaking of water that makes the birthing of new life possible. He’s referring to God’s Spirit, God’s breath, which inspires us, en-livens us. In Genesis it is the wind, the ruach, that hovered over the watery chaos at the dawn of creation.

Nicodemus is confused. He can’t understand Jesus because Jesus is referring to truth, to reality, that doesn’t fit in the box that Nicodemus’ religion has put God in. History proves that all religion inevitably puts God in the box of our human understandings. We end up substituting our understanding of God for God, blind to the fact that they are not the same.

Just look at what has been done with the notion of being born again. It’s been boxed and sold as a litmus test for whether one is a real Christian. My experience is that when we use “born again” that way it’s evidence that we’re not.

Jesus says to Nicodemus, “Let me tell you the gospel truth: You must start over. But you can’t do it on your own.

“Being born from above, born anew, born again, born from top to bottom is like being born the first time. You had nothing to do with it. It was a gift.” This was a hard truth for Nicodemus, and it’s a hard truth for us. We believe that anything worth having is worth working for. We believe that what we need, we can figure out a way to get. Though we’ll never say it, our behavior says it for us: We believe we are self-made men and women.

“Nicodemus, the present tense of born is bear, as in to carry. Your mother carried you. She gave her life to you. She labored to deliver you. She fed you. Comforted you. Protected you. It was all gift. All grace.”

We don’t control our birth. We don’t applaud the newborn, “Way to go! Look way you did!” The same is true for those born of the Spirit. It is like breath. At the end of the day, we don’t brag, “I took a thousand breaths today. Where’s my reward?” Our breathing carries us along. And the wind: No one says, “You can thank me for that cool breeze.”

The best things in life are free. They only cost us everything that matters to us. It’s the paradox of grace.

V. The paradox of grace

In Luke’s gospel, Jesus teaches his disciples about the cost of discipleship. He concludes, “None of you can become my disciples, if you do not give up all your possessions” (Luke 14:33). To receive, we must let go. To win, we must surrender. To live, we must die. It’s the paradox of grace.

All our possessions: including our religion, our understandings about God and how God works, our assumptions about church and worship.

Nicodemus is bewildered: “How can these things be?” Jesus replies, “Are you a teacher of Israel, and yet do not understand these things?”

The Old Testament reading for today is the story of God’s call of Abraham and Sarah to leave their possessions and go where God will lead them. God says to them, “You must start all over.” God doesn’t give them a map. God gives them a promise: “You are mine. I will be with you.”

A young man once said, “My church gave me answers. I didn’t need answers – I needed a relationship that would save me, all of me, from myself. I had to leave my church to discover the Jesus who is so much more than answers. Following him is like starting my life all over again…and again…and again.”

VI. A witness to the wind, the breath, of God

I end with a witness to having received a gift of the Spirit.

At the conclusion of the Ash Wednesday service two weeks ago, we sang “Just as I Am.” We were supposed to sing it during the imposition of the ashes, but didn’t. So Regina invited the congregation to sing it softly. On the last verse Ken stopped playing the organ. What I heard was beautiful, divine. Many voices had become one. Disunity had become community. I felt the breath of God blowing through this sanctuary like a refreshing breeze.

The community was singing, praying together: “Just as I am, thy love unknown hath broken every barrier down; now to be thine, yea, thine alone, O Lamb of God, I come, I come.”

I believe it was the sound of a church being born from above, born anew, born again, starting over.

ChristianGlobe Networks, Inc., Collected Sermons, by Mike Ripski